


An Assault of An Earworm

by mademoisellePlume



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, nothing overt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellePlume/pseuds/mademoisellePlume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of 2a22ygaypsiioniic's headcanon: "When he’s all tied up as the Helmsman, he has absolutely nothing to do, right?</p>
<p>Well, I imagine that SOME times the ship has to rest. Like, when no one’s on it. All ships go to harbor at some point.</p>
<p>He doesn’t get let out of course. He’s left in there, just…in the dark. All alone.</p>
<p>So I have this one completely random-sounding headcanon that when he’s all alone, he hums.</p>
<p>Yeah.</p>
<p>He makes up songs and shit and just hums to himself.</p>
<p>he totally hums Gold Pilot."</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Assault of An Earworm

The ship was at rest. A world, a large, beautiful, thriving world had been found, and the Condesce was enjoying the hospitality of the locals. Welcoming her like the goddess she was, she was being plied with gifts, tributes, food, and sacrifices. She was enjoying this world. They would not be swallowed up by the jaws of the Empire for some time yet.

And he hung here. Useless for a time. Nothing but a troll, locked in place, with a thinkpan full of tragedy and absolutely fuck all to do. Piloting was painful and excruciating. But at least he was never bored, never at a loss for what to do or what to think about. Because the answer was always ‘agony.’

And so the helmsblock reverberated with the quiet humming of a bored troll. The tune started off simple. It got more and more complicated as the hours dragged on. He started to move his head from side to side.

When he’d first started humming in his boredom, it had been very simplistic. Now he could hum things that almost sounded like two people were humming at once. That tickled his duality-loving sensibilities.

“…Sometimes I wonder if that headset has drained your thinkpan of all brain matter.” Was commented. He blinked and stopped humming, turning his head to stare at the Condesce, looking caught between amusement and being disturbed. They made eye contact for a while.

And then he started to hum again.

Rolling her eyes, she turned, clearly deciding that the new planet offered for more interesting things for her to pay attention to then a mad, humming troll.

She grew bored of the place soon enough, as she inevitably did with every new planet.

And then to that planet was called the Threshecutioners, and the aliens fell under the unforgiving blades of the reapers while calling for their Goddess to save them.

She sat in her throne room, tapping on the arm of her throne as she stared at a map, trying to decide where she wished to go next.

…Why did the rhythm of her tapping sound familiar? She realized with utter embarrassment that it was the tune that she’d heard the Helmsman humming. Well. At least there was none amongst her crew but her permitted to go near the Helmsman and thusly no risk that they would recognize the rhythm and pinpoint the embarrassing source of it. Still, she was not pleased that it had permeated her consciousness so well, and she put her palm down on the arm of the throne, picking a direction at random.

The order was transmitted to the Helmsman, and she took herself off to sleep. She was clearly overtired.

The next night, upon awakening, she went to what amounted to a seawater hot spring, the size of a spring. She swam and bathed and only realized she was humming the song when three rustblood slaves were carefully brushing out her long wet hair. She’d been floating, embracing the warmth of her luxury, when she realized that her treacherous lips were trying to follow that complicated tune she’d heard the night before. She sat up with an infuriated jerk, her hair pulled by surprised hands. She cut off the babbled apologies and sent all three slaves from her chambers, scowling darkly.

She brushed the rest of her hair by herself, very carefully not humming at all.

When she put her jewelry on, when she was watching a lowblood be lashed, when she was waiting for the connection to the Grand Highblood’s ship to be made, time and again, she caught herself humming, her ire growing each time.

Finally, she looked at the rate of her ship’s speed. Usually, it was acceptable. Right then, she found it a little slow, and a perfectly valid excuse to punish the pilot who assumedly had no idea how much he’d started to irritate her without being present.

She strode down to the helmsblock, mind racing. Perhaps she should cut out his tongue, he did not need it. Or simply strike him until he apologized for ever making that sound. She could find a whip to flog him with, or use a knife to scar him. “Helmsman! I want the speed to be-!“

As she entered, normally unused monitors lit up. And on each one, from the vantage points of security cameras, was each time she’d tapped the melody or hummed it. She looked from one to another, tyrian flooding her cheeks in utter outrage and humiliation, her earfins flattening themselves against their skulls. “You-how dare-I-Helmsman!” She spluttered, not even able to form a full sentence.

He was grinning. She’d never seen him smile before. And he hummed a few bars of the tune before he broke into laughter. It was rusty, and painful sounding, but the delight and amusement in his voice was clear enough.

For the first time in her long, long life, the Condesce fled from a lowblood getting the better of her, hearing his laughter ring in her ears.


End file.
